


A Fire is Burning

by Luka



Series: Iceman [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-11
Updated: 2008-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:24:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Ryan takes up the challenge of bedding the Iceman</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fire is Burning

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[fiction](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/fiction), [iceman](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/iceman), [ryan](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/ryan), [slash](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/slash), [stephen](http://lukadreaming.livejournal.com/tag/stephen)  
  
  
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Title: A Fire is Burning  
Author: Luka  
Characters: Tom Ryan, Stephen Hart  
Rating: 18  
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just playing and won't make a penny out of them. I'll put them back when I'm finished, honest! Not that TFIC want them any more . . .  
Spoilers: None  
Pairing: Ryan/Stephen  
Warnings: Slash  
Summary:  Ryan takes up the challenge of bedding the Iceman  
A/N: With thanks to Fredbassett for the loan of the lovely Jon Lyle …

  
Ryan nodded his thanks to the barman, disposed of the glass of whisky in one mouthful and signalled for a refill. Bloody Forest of Dean. He couldn't work out whether the sheep-shagging natives or the dinosaurs were the weirdest.

There was a gale of laughter from the corner of the pub where two of his lads had commandeered the snooker table in the face of hostile glares from some of the local boys. It was the safest bet in this universe – and a few others – that he'd be breaking fights up by the end of the night. There were always spats over spilled pints or girlfriends.

The pub door opened and all the locals swung round in perfect unison to stare at the newcomer. Ryan suppressed a smile. They presumably weren't used to seeing blokes who looked like male models in their spit and sawdust establishment.

Dr Stephen Hart was the most gorgeous bloke Ryan had ever seen. He oozed sex appeal from his spiky brown hair to the tips of his Timberland boots. And as he had a PhD he obviously had a brain as well. On top of that he could shoot and track like a professional. Ryan couldn't understand why he was wasting his talents in a university.

Hart closed the pub door and shrugged off his denim jacket to reveal a soft cotton long-sleeved teeshirt which clung to his toned body, provoking a collective sigh from the girls at a corner table. 

But Ryan noticed that Hart's attention was on the table next to them where Professor Nick Cutter and Claudia Brown were talking intently, their foreheads almost touching. And he also noticed Hart's jaw tightening as he watched them – or, more accurately, watched Cutter.

That explained a lot, particularly the heroics in the Tube tunnel. Hart couldn't have been more obvious about his feelings for Cutter if he'd taken out an ad in the local rag. But Cutter was totally oblivious to it, and, Ryan imagined, always had been. Quite why anyone would want to shag a short-tempered Scotsman who'd benefit from a personality transplant was beyond Ryan. Christ, it'd be as bad as going to bed with Geek Boy, and that wasn't an appetising thought.

Ryan caught Hart's eye and gestured to his glass. Least he could do was buy the poor sod a pint, particularly given his shooting skills had saved the lives of two of his lads earlier.

Hart slid onto the stool next to him. Up close he looked exhausted, his cheekbones even sharper and his blue eyes full of barely-disguised pain. Ryan wasn't surprised. They'd been on the go for the best part of 72 hours and Hart had been tracking, shooting or both for most of that. Ryan's lads were used to it, but he guessed that a civilian who spent most of his time in a university lab wasn't.

"Captain Ryan."

"Dr Hart."

"Call me Stephen."

"I'm Ryan."

"No first name? Unless of course you're Ryan Ryan …"

Ryan raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the weak joke. "Only my grandmother calls me by my first name. Anyway, cheers and good shooting earlier."

"Thanks." Stephen took a swallow of his pint, and it was all Ryan could do not to reach out and run his forefinger down the long, slender neck and throat to the tantalising patch of dark hair underneath his teeshirt.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"I grew up on a farm. For years it was my big interest. At one point I was in line for an Olympic place …" He stopped and shrugged.

"What happened?"

"I reckoned I'd do more good trying to stop mankind from fucking up the planet."

"And have you?"

"I doubt it." Stephen sounded bitter.

"You could get back into competitive shooting easily. There are blokes in their 50s competing in the Olympics."

"Maybe. Not going to happen at the moment, though."

"Why not? It'd give you a clean break away from …" Ryan gestured towards Cutter.

Hart looked horrified. "How d'you …?"

Ryan shrugged. "Takes one to know one," he said flatly.

"You're …?"

"Yep."

"Does anyone know?"

"Only Jon Lyle." Ryan nodded towards his lieutenant and best mate, who was in the thick of a rowdy game of darts. "What about you?"

"No one."

"People wouldn't care in a university, surely?"

"Probably not, but I …" He hesitated and shrugged. "Why am I telling you all of this?"

"Because I'm a good listener?" suggested Ryan, signalling to the barman for refills.

Hart smiled slightly and passed over a ten quid note for the drinks. "So have you got a …?"

"Nope. The job's not exactly conducive to steady relationships, especially when it comes to cavorting round anomalies."

"I know the feeling."

"Cutter's got no idea how you feel?"

"God, no. He's straight as a die away. He wouldn't care in the least that I'm gay, but he'd be mortified if he knew I fancied him. Poor bastard's crap at relationships anyway."

"Yeah, I suppose your wife buggering off with the dinosaurs for eight years is a bit of a giveaway that all's not tickety-boo in the marital bed …"

Hart laughed out loud and his serious face suddenly looked appealingly boyish. Ryan watched his long fingers twirl the beer glass around and imagined them touching his body. Hart's eyes followed his and suddenly seemed to click. Ryan grinned at him.

"I need to check up on the lads by the anomaly first."

"Oh, right, no problem. Shall I …?"

"Come with me. It's more or less on the way to the hotel."

Ryan slid off the stool and caught Jon Lyle's eye. The lieutenant wandered over.

"You gonna be OK with this lot, Jon?"

"Sure."

"Good. I'm going to check on the lads, then go back to the hotel."

Lyle glanced at Hart, who was talking to Cutter, and grinned lasciviously. "Don't tell me you're on a promise with the Iceman …"

"Fuck off," said Ryan mildly.

"Don't wear him out. We need his tracking skills tomorrow."

Ryan gave him the finger, then put his jacket on. Hart joined him and they headed off into the dark.

***

The anomaly looked like a low-budget Blackpool illuminations in the middle of the forest. Two arc lights were focussed on it. As Ryan and Hart approached, they were rapidly surrounded by half a dozen Special Forces men.

"Everything all right, lads?"

"Yessir." Sgt Tait was a taciturn, efficient Yorkshireman.

"Nothing come through?"

"No sir."

"If it does, bundle the fucker up and bung it back through."

"That'll be gone in the next couple of hours," said Stephen.

"You reckon?"

"Yep. It's a lot fainter than it was earlier."

They watched it for a while and Ryan reckoned Hart was right. He said: "Give Lieutenant Lyle a shout if it does disappear. I'll be back first thing."

"Right-o, sir. Um, the lieutenant said we were on the look-out for a lady who might come through."

"She's no lady, I assure you, sergeant. If you see her, we want her alive."

The hotel was a small, homely set-up, obviously used to walkers and cyclists. Claudia had spun the owners a tale about a joint DEFRA and army exercise which seemed to convince them.

Ryan had taken a double room at the top of the hotel. His pack was spread neatly on the table and his guns were oiled and ready. Hart, Cutter and Claudia had rooms on the floor below, while Abby and Connor were in two tiny singles. The Special Forces contingent was crammed into an assortment of double and family rooms.

Ryan sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard and unzipped his jeans. His cock was hard in an instant and he could see Hart staring at it hungrily.

"Like what you see?"

Hart nodded, his hand skimming the bulge in his own jeans.

"Get shot of those clothes and get over here, then …"

Hart looked even better with his clothes off. He stripped off his teeshirt and jeans to reveal long, toned limbs and a flawless tan, then crawled across the bed and swallowed Ryan's cock to the root.

Ryan spread his thighs to give him easy access, his hand playing with Hart's hair. The blowjob was clumsy but enthusiastic. Not that Ryan cared . . . it was more than enough to see that beautiful mouth round his prick. He pulled out suddenly, knowing he'd come too soon if he didn't. Hart sat back on his heels, his lips slightly swollen and his breathing quickening. His own cock was hard.

"Don't want to waste it," said Ryan briefly. Hart nodded and got on his hands and knees. Ryan licked his fingers and played with the tight hole, smiling at the squirming this provoked.

"Been a while since you had a cock up here," he said conversationally.

"Can't remember … Please … Do me now."

Ryan knelt behind him and pushed hard, feeling the tight channel give a fraction.

"Oh god …!" Hart flinched at the intrusion. Ryan grabbed his slim waist and pushed deeper, feeling the resistance around his cock. It was like fucking a virgin all over again.

Hart whimpered, his head dropping forward. Christ, he was beautiful in the half-light, all smooth tawny skin. One last thrust and Ryan was in. He set up a deep, even rhythm and soon felt Hart relaxing around him. One long thrust made the guy moan loudly.

"Like that?"

"Yes!" Hart shuddered, pushing himself back so he was fully impaled. He looked sensational with his gorgeous arse skewered and stretched by Ryan's thick cock. Ryan leaned over and kissed the perfect shoulders, somehow resisting the temptation to leave his mark on them. Hart was beyond coherent words by now, wriggling and whimpering. He came first, pitching forward, and Ryan came almost immediately after as the tight channel contracting round his prick finished him off.

It took a moment for his head to clear and he realised he was lying on top of Hart. He withdrew and rolled onto his side. Hart stayed where he was for a few minutes, his arse quivering slightly from the fucking it had just received. Ryan rubbed his finger through the cum leaking from his hole.

"You OK?"

"Yeah. That was fabulous." Hart rolled onto his side and watched Ryan out of deep blue eyes. Ryan wasn't much into kissing, but he decided he was willing to make an exception for this guy, so he leaned over and kissed the still-swollen lips. And he was fascinated by his nipples, which seemed to be permanently hard. He nibbled one experimentally and was rewarded with a guttural groan.

Ryan couldn't get a handle on this remote, reserved young man. The soldiers had started calling him the Iceman, although they respected him for his shooting and tracking skills. Ryan smiled to himself as he tried to square the Iceman image with the uninhibited bloke he'd just screwed through the mattress. And he knew Lyle would be straight out of the blocks with the 'did the Iceman Cometh?' line the next morning.

Hart was nothing like the mercurial Cutter who could boomerang from ranting to laughing in the space of about a minute. Ryan and his lads liked his passion and the fact he would share a joke with them. Stephen rarely smiled – Ryan could only recall seeing him lighten up when he fed the dodos. He'd looked very young and relaxed as the creatures crowded around him. When it came to humans, though, he seemed to have erected a wall around himself. Ryan took it as a personal challenge to break it down.

They drowsed, Ryan sprawled out and Stephen curled up just touching him. Ryan was just wondering whether he could be bothered to turn the light out when Stephen sat up suddenly and started to get out of bed.

"Where you off to?"

"Back to my room."

"Why?"

The direct question seemed to flummox Stephen and he hesitated before shrugging.

"Stay."

Stephen watched him for a moment or so, then nodded. Ryan arranged the duvet over them and pulled Stephen into his arms. He thought at first he was going to resist, but after a fractional tensing of his body, Stephen relaxed against Ryan's chest. Ryan kissed the top of his head. "OK?"

The response was quiet, like a feather tracing across his bare skin. "Fine."

"Good." Ryan noted the way Stephen's arms tightened around his chest and how his breathing evened out until he was asleep.

He got the feeling that getting close to Stephen was going to be like trying to domesticate a feral cat. But he was a patient man. He could wait.

 


End file.
